Epilogue #2
“Keep going,” I say.
“Okay, my Elias.”
His fingers trail forward, gently stroking my cock. I’m so turned on, so eager, but my poor dick seems utterly confused by the chaos of sensation.
As he eases farther inside me, Boone strokes me through the burn. The pain is intense—far more than the plug I’d stupidly thought was “giant”—but his hand is perfect, the sting and pressure somehow merging into unbearable pleasure.
And finally—finally—Boone grunts and shudders, his voice dropping to a rough rasp.
“Perfect, Elias. I’m inside you. Fully.”
I nod shakily, focusing first on the feel of his fur brushing my thighs and my spread ass cheeks. Smiling at the sensation, I drag in a trembling breath and concentrate on where we’re joined. With an unsteady hand, I reach back, needing to touch it—us.
We groan together as my fingers press to the opening where his cock disappears into my stretched hole. “You’re really all in there,” I say, wonder bleeding openly into my voice.
“I knew you could take me.” He punctuates the words with a soft kiss to the back of my head.
A grin splits my face wide. Is it deranged to feel this proud of being stuffed to capacity by his monster cock? Maybe. But it also feels so profoundly right.
The throb of his cock has me returning my palms to the mattress, properly on hands and knees, groaning. “Boone, baby—now fuck me like I’m yours.”
Without preamble, he slides out and thrusts back in. “As I am yours,” he growls.
I gasp, my cry breaking free. “Yes—fuck.”
He fucks into me again and again, each drag of his thick cock brushing my prostate. I slam my eyes shut, lost to sensation.
Boone’s movements are controlled—relentless, but restrained. If he used his full strength, I’d be tasting him, so of course he holds back. His steady strokes on my hard-on never falter, the grip perfect, and before I know it, I’m hurtling toward the edge.
It’s too much. It’s everything.
The rustle of his fur against my skin. His possessive grunts with every thrust. The way he strokes me into completion as I shout—an honest-to-the-monster-gods cry that short-circuits my brain and sends my cock erupting in streams of cum.
Tears spill down my cheeks, the overload consuming every particle of me. This right here is—
Boone growls as he comes, flooding me with his release. It pumps into me in thick bursts, his cock buried so deep inside I shudder and groan, my arms giving out. He catches me immediately, holding me close, lips and tongue warm against my neck.
—perfect. Absolutely life-changing and perfect.
I struggle to breathe, wrecked by sensation and emotion. My tears slow, their tracks kissed away by Boone, who holds me with such reverence that I might start crying all over again if he doesn’t stop being so infuriatingly tender.
“Breathe out, my Elias.”
I obey instantly, my head swimming with white light and softness. When he pulls out, a strangled groan escapes me.
As I inhale again, he carefully maneuvers me onto my back. Rough fingers stroke my face gently, and I blink up at him, utterly spent.
The world settles slowly after.
Not all at once but in gentle increments.
Boone stays with me, solid and steady, his presence a quiet gravity that pulls me back into my body piece by piece.
He shifts us carefully, arranging furs and blankets with an attentiveness that makes my chest ache.
One arm stays tucked around me the entire time, as if letting go isn’t even an option.
“Are you with me?” he murmurs.
I nod, then realize he can’t see it and hum softly in confirmation. His answering breath ghosts warm against my temple, a small sound of relief I pretend not to notice.
We lie together for a while, tangled and calm, the cave breathing around us. The Smoky Mountains are quieter than the western forests—older somehow, worn smooth by time and patience. The air smells like stone and damp earth and pine, and Boone fits into it like he’s always belonged here.
Like he belongs anywhere the land remembers him.
He brushes my hair back from my face, thumb tracing idle, grounding patterns along my jaw. There’s no rush in him now. No urgency. Just presence.
“A few more days,” he says eventually, more to himself than to me. “Then we’ll head north and see your brother.”
The words send a pleasant warmth through me, spreading outward from my chest. “I can’t wait for him to meet you,” I say faintly. “And knowing he won’t freak the fuck out is great.”
Boone chuckles, low and fond. “Considering he’s with a cryptid who’s not known for playing nice with humans, I think he’ll be surprisingly well-adjusted.”
“I think so too.” I shift slightly, settling more comfortably against him. “After that… back west.”
“Yes,” Boone says. “Winter in the Olympics.”
The thought feels right. Not final. Not limiting. Just… another step.
I tilt my head, looking up at him. His face is relaxed now, open in a way that still catches me off guard sometimes. Loving Boone has stripped me down to the bone, leaving only what’s raw and honest, and I find myself grateful for it—grateful for the vulnerability, for the choice in it.
“I want a long life with you,” I say quietly. Not dramatic. Just true.
He stills for half a breath, then presses his forehead to mine. “I know.”
“And I know we don’t have all the answers yet,” I add, “but we’re good at figuring things out. Or… making them work.”
A soft smile curves his mouth. “That we are.”
He pulls me closer, protective without being possessive, and I let myself relax fully into him. The future stretches out before us—uncertain, complicated, full of thresholds I don’t yet have names for.
Uncertainty no longer feels like something to fear. It feels like an invitation.
And I’m not walking into it alone. Nor will I ever again.
***
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